Broken Bond
by Revhead
Summary: Set after 9x14 Captives. Cas decides it is time for an intervention.


_Set after 9x14 Captives_

**Broken Bond**

"What have you done?"

Reacting on instinct, Sam grabbed a gun and was halfway out of his chair before he realised that the intruder was only Cas.

He breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the bunker had not lost its reputation for being impenetrable. Enough sanctuaries had been taken from them over the years. "Dude, don't scare me like that."

"I have every right," Cas snarled. "I leave you two alone for a few weeks, and _this_ is what I come back to?"

Sam looked around the library, askance. Nothing was disorderly, broken or out of place, so Cas couldn't be complaining about the state of the bunker, and they had avoided getting tangled up in the angel conflict while Cas attempted to handle things his way, so it couldn't be that he was mad with them for interfering. If the ferocity in his tone was anything to go by, though, Sam was dealing with one severely pissed off angel and that was not something that could be taken lightly.

"What's the matter?"

If anything, the question only seemed to make Cas angrier. "What's the _matter_? Don't you see the mess you've made? The damage you've caused?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. The only hunts we've been doing lately have been small open and shut cases that have nothing to do with the angel or demon wars-"

"I'm not talking about hunting, I'm talking about _you_."

For a moment, Sam worried that he had accidentally restarted the Apocalypse or inadvertently caused some other type of world-wide calamity. "What did I do?"

Cas frowned. "I do not know, exactly. I can only see the effect, not the cause. But I have seen your brother at some of the worst times in his life, and I know that there is only one thing in the universe that is capable of causing him true harm. Therefore I can only conclude that this has to be about you."

Not the end of the world, then. Just Dean. Sam almost rolled his eyes. "So, what, Dean's sulking and you think it is my fault? It takes two to fight, Cas."

"Dean is not 'sulking'. He is asleep."

"Okay…?"

"Properly asleep, Sam, for the first time in weeks. He has been living, if you can call it that, on nothing but coffee and adrenaline ever since Kevin died. His body finally crashed a few hours ago."

"Sleep deprivation is hardly a new thing for us," Sam pointed out. They were lucky to catch even a couple of hours rest a night when they were in the midst of a hunt. "We can survive on a lot less than other people."

"That in itself is not what concerns me. Dean is dreaming, Sam."

"Humans do that."

"I know. When I lost my Grace, I experienced the phenomenon. From what I could tell from my limited exposure, dreaming is the brain's way of working through problems and emotions subconsciously, particularly when a person resists dealing with their issues while they are awake."

"That is one theory…"

"Well, I intended to visit Dean in his dreams to report Bartholomew's death without actually making the trip-"

"Bartholomew – he led of one of the angel factions, right? He's dead?"

"Yes, I killed him. That's not important. I saw what Dean was dreaming about, Sam."

"Cartoon porn?" Sam guessed, smirking a little.

Cas glared daggers at him. "No. Your _brother_ was dreaming about _killing himself._"

That stopped Sam cold. "What?"

"Suicide, Sam. Dean's subconscious is cycling though the options – hunting without back up, failing to defend himself if something attacks him, crashing the Impala, jumping off a cliff, overdosing on pills, falling on his own blade, or just sticking a gun in his mouth-"

"No." Sam shook his head. "You're wrong. Dean wouldn't."

"This isn't the first time Dean has had dreams like these. That year he thought you were in Hell, Dean dreamed about killing himself every single night. The only reason he didn't follow through with it was because he made you a promise. So tell me, Sam, what is stopping him now? Because as far as his subconscious is concerned, you will be celebrating at his funeral pyre."

Sam swallowed. "He doesn't really believe that."

"No? So the conversation echoing through his dreams didn't actually happen, then? You didn't tell your brother that if he was dying you wouldn't try to save him?"

"That's not – you're taking it out of context. I was ready and willing to die back in that hospital, and Dean _knew_ that. But instead of letting me go he tricked me into letting a psycho angel _possess _me to keep me alive when all I wanted was for this crappy life to be _over_ already so I could finally be at peace. He saved me for selfish reasons, Cas, just so he wouldn't have to be alone. And if the situation were reversed, I wouldn't make the same call."

"So if Dean wants to kill himself, to 'be at peace', you would just sit back and let him _die?"_

Sam's stomach jolted, but he couldn't be hypocritical now. "If Dean wants an end to this lifetime of suffering, then who am I to stop him?"

Cas took a step back, staring at him as though he had never seen Sam before. "I thought if I told you how distressed Dean was feeling, you would do something about it. But he's right. You don't care."

"That's not fair, Cas. Why does Dean get to play the victim here? _I'm_ the one who could have boarded up Hell before Dean stopped me. _I'm _the one who was ready to die and had that right stolen. _I'm _the one who was lied to. _I'm_ the one who was forced to become an angel condom against my will. _I'm_ the one who had to watch helplessly as Kevin was killed by my own hands. And you know what? My _entire life_ has been Dean making choices for me, under the guise of 'doing what is right' without ever thinking about how I might feel about it. I didn't even want to be a hunter. Every time I managed to get out, Dean dragged me back in. This was one time too many."

"He saved your life."

"I didn't want him to!"

"You consented."

"Only because Dean begged me to. But why should his needs come first? Why can't I have what I want for a change?"

"I do not understand how you can think that Dean is selfish. When I was told to rescue him from Hell, I went back in time to watch him grow up and find out what sort of man he was. Do you know what I saw?

"I saw him willingly share his parents with you. I saw him hold back his tears when your mother died so you wouldn't get upset. I saw him give up his sleep to feed and comfort you during the night. I saw him give you his toy soldiers, toy cars and his favourite toy aeroplane. I saw him stay home from school when you were sick to look after you. I saw him go hungry so you would have enough food to eat when the money ran out. I saw him tell your father to buy you the new pairs of jeans you wanted instead of replacing his worn-out shoes. I saw him do your chores when you wanted to spend the afternoon at the library. I saw him help you with your homework instead of finishing his own. I saw him drive you to friends' houses when he could have gone out on dates. I saw him convince your father to let you stay in one place for a few extra weeks because you had friends at that school even though the kids in his year hated him. I saw him keep you away from hunting for as long as he could. I saw him stand between you and numerous monsters, taking blows that were meant for you. I saw him let you leave for Stanford without offering a word of protest. I saw him pick up the phone to ask you for help so many times over those two years you were away but never actually make the call.

"All of these examples and more, Sam, and that is not even counting the deal he made to save your life that cost him 40 years in Hell, or the numerous times since then that he has put your wishes and your wellbeing first.

"And the one thing Dean wants in return is to have you at his side. Is that really so much to ask?"

Of course the angel would take Dean's side in all of this. Why couldn't either of them see the situation from his point of view for once? "You don't get it, Cas. I'm tired. I can't _do_ this anymore. I just want it to be over."

"So you really want to die?"

Sam thought of peace, of sweet oblivion. An end to the fighting, the struggle, the blood, the fear. A permanent escape from pain and doubt. The ultimate freedom.

"Yes."

"Fine." Castiel stalked forward, exuding an aura of threat and fury that had not been directed toward Sam in years.

He scrambled back in alarm. "What are you-?"

"I am giving you what you asked for," Cas growled. He caught Sam by the throat and slammed him against the wall so hard that he saw stars.

"Cas, what the hell-?"

Ruthlessly, Castiel began to squeeze, cutting off Sam's oxygen.

"Cas-" Sam choked, scrabbling uselessly at the hands tightening around his neck. He kicked and bucked and struggled, but the angel was immovable and his eyes were cold.

"Why are you fighting me? This is what you want, right, Sam? You want to die. I am simply helping you along."

Sam's chest heaved, trying desperately to get air in his lungs.

"There's nothing to live for, is there? No one who needs you. No one who loves you."

His vision began to blur, the edges greying.

"Please-" he tried, but no sound escaped.

"There's no point. Hunting monsters, saving people – it's not worth it. Might as well die and let evil win. What does it matter?"

He couldn't breathe. Unconsciousness was swiftly approaching and it would be followed rapidly by death.

Death.

He was going to die.

And suddenly, he realised what that meant.

There would be no sunshine, no cool breeze flowing through the Impala's windows, no gazing up at the stars, no prank wars, no smiles of gratitude from people he saved, no fulfilment from a job well done, no early morning workouts, no books, no coffee, no chick flick moments, no forming new memories, no experiencing new things, no more birthdays, no dreams for the future, no chance to avenge Kevin's death, no saving the world. No Dean.

Death was an ending. The ultimate ending. And when he thought about everything he would be giving up if he let Cas kill him, Sam realised that he wasn't ready for this life to be over.

"Is this what you want, Sam?"

_No._

"_Is it_?"

He shook his head. His lips formed the word. "No."

Castiel's grip slackened just enough to allow speech. "What was that, Sam? I can't hear you."

He forced the word up through his abused throat. "_No_."

Cas leaned closer. "I am not sure I understand what you mean by that. Elaborate."

"No. I don't want to die."

Cas stared into his eyes for a long moment as though judging his sincerity. Then he nodded. "Good." He released Sam and stood back, giving him a chance to catch his breath.

Sam gulped down the life-saving air; never had it tasted so sweet. "You're crazy," he panted.

"I was 'knocking some sense into you'."

Ruefully, Sam rubbed the bump on the back of his head. "You didn't have to interpret that phrase quite so literally."

Cas did not look remotely apologetic. "I did what was necessary. Your attitude was going to get both you and your brother killed."

"Well… thanks, I guess."

"Do not thank me, Sam. Go wake your brother from his suicidal ideation and thank _him._"

The pang of guilt was sharp and painful as Sam realised just how much damage he had inflicted on Dean in the past few months. Dean wanted to die, and _Sam_ had made him feel that way. "He's still-?"

"Yes."

"Couldn't you-?"

"There is nothing I could say or do that would convince Dean that his life is worth living. He needs to hear it from you."

"But… I don't know what to say. After what I did to him – what _can _I say?"

Cas gave him a long, searching look. "I think you know."

Sam swallowed, and nodded. "Okay," he said hoarsely. "I'll try."

Cas vanished, leaving Sam in the silence of the bunker.

It took a few minutes for Sam to work up the courage to do as he had promised he would, but eventually he made his way to Dean's bedroom.

Drawing in a slow breath to steady his nerves, he leant over his brother's sleeping form and gently shook his shoulder.

Dean woke up in full combat mode. Years of experience enabled Sam to leap back out of harm's way as the knife Dean kept under his pillow slashed through the air where he had just been standing.

Dean blinked. "Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam exhaled, letting the sudden burst of adrenaline drain away.

Dean set down the knife and scrubbed the weariness from his face. "What is it? A lead on Abbadon, another hunt, what?"

"No, I just… I need to talk to you."

Dean's expression closed off immediately. "I have had about as much as I can take of our 'talks', Sam. Why don't I just do both of us a favour and get the hell out of your hair, huh?"

He stormed for the doorway but Sam caught his arm and spun him around. "Dean, wait. Please."

Dean glared at him, but Sam could see through the simmering anger to the hurt beneath. And Dean was just standing there, waiting for Sam to crush him anew. Waiting for the final blow that would destroy him once and for all. Waiting for a reason to die.

"I love you, Dean," Sam said.

Surprise flashed across Dean's face, but within an instant it was replaced with mistrust and suspicion. "What?"

"You're my brother, and I love you."

Dean was too stunned to respond, so Sam powered on. "Ever since the trials started I've been in a bad way. Everything got crazy and dark and bleak and hopeless and tangled in my head and I wasn't coping. I took it out on you. I'm sorry, Dean. You saved my life and kept me going when I was ready to give up. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for you and I know it took me too long to say it but… thank you."

Dean did not look convinced. "Yeah. Right."

"I mean it, Dean. You've stuck by me through some serious crap and there ain't no one who has ever loved me or looked out for me the way you do. I owe you everything, and I know there is nothing I can do to make up for what I've done, but… if you think you can forgive me I'd really like to be brothers again."

Dean just stared at him.

Sam moved forward and, wary of being rejected, slowly enveloped his brother in a hug.

Dean stood stiffly, not reciprocating, but Sam only tightened the embrace, letting his brother know that this time he was not going anywhere.

When Dean's arms finally wrapped around him in return, neither of them ever wanted to let go.

In that moment, the broken bond was made whole.


End file.
